


stuck on you

by panndulce



Category: NCT (Band), WAYV
Genre: ...Kinda, Alternate Universe - College/University, Kinda, Love at First Sight, M/M, No Plot, Slow Burn, just 16k+ words of nerds hanging out and falling in luv
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:21:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27075640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panndulce/pseuds/panndulce
Summary: Dejun is not cool— not even a little bit— but Yangyang falls anyway.
Relationships: Liu Yang Yang/Xiao De Jun | Xiao Jun
Comments: 24
Kudos: 77





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello! it’s a been a very long while since i’ve written anything and i am very rusty, so here’s 7k+ words (so far) dedicated to my fave criminally underrated nct/wayv ship to get myself back into it
> 
> lucas and winwin feature a tiny bit in the next chapter but not here unfortunately...forgive me!

Yangyang has never considered himself a romantic person. That being said, he thinks he might’ve fallen in love today.

“That’s...really dramatic, coming from you.” Guanheng blinks, and yeah, he’s probably right- but at the very least, Yangyang doesn’t think he’s ever felt this way before. Yangyang’s never been one to fall— fast, hard, or at all. He could only ever tolerate dating trials and tribulations of Guanheng and Ten ( _especially_ Ten) second-hand for how funny they could be, and even then, the pure _mush_ of it all just got to be way, _way_ too much.

For as long as he can remember, he’s never had much patience for the stuttering, red-faced and sweaty-palmed image of high school romance that all his aunts and uncles would sigh wistfully about, that all his friends would jump and scream and cry and curse the very next day— 

“Do you have like...a complex or something?” Guanheng had asked in their last year of high school, sitting on his bed when Ten popped in suddenly, his head peering over Guanheng’s shoulder, right in Yangyang’s face, determined.

“Baby, are you _afraid_ to fall in love?” Guanheng play-gasped at this accusation, but there was obvious curiosity in his eyes. Yangyang was unmoved.

“Honestly…I just think it’s corny.” Even when Ten smacked his shoulder in offense, Yangyang stayed firm in this belief— it was corny. But now, in his first year of university, it’s not.

“Why is it not?” 

“Because it’s me doing it now.” Guanheng rolls his eyes. “Well, who is it?”

-

That morning, Yangyang’s dorm roommate Kun had asked him if he wanted to accompany him to the Music and Performing Arts Center. Yangyang had no real business there being there that day— or any day at all, being a Biochemistry major— but this was an obvious bonding attempt on Kun’s part that flattered him a little, so he said yes. Kun was a little older than him, super nice, and really fun to tease (so maybe there was the slightest bit of guilt there too), but it could be fun to see a new side of his roommate, in a major so far removed from his own.

The center was modest, but lively. The grand piano they had there was massive compared to Kun’s little keyboard in the dorm, and Yangyang was thoroughly enjoying Kun’s practice performance before Kun got distracted by a professor coming in with impromptu notes. 

“I’ll just be a minute.” Kun smiled apologetically, but Yangyang was more than fine with roaming the hallways of the center, reminiscing over violin lessons he didn’t appreciate enough as a kid. It was nice to be surrounded by a craft that didn’t involve things like cellular respiration or math for once, and he thinks the sensations of a new environment mixed with nostalgia is what peaked his ears towards a door cracked half-open behind him, a soft and melodic sound coming through. 

From the corner of his eyes, he saw a guy about his age sitting alone in a modest-sized, empty auditorium, and from that guy came one of the most beautiful voices Yangyang thinks he ever encountered— soulful and powerful with something that shoots _something_ straight though his chest. 

Yangyang doesn’t think much at all of poetic beauty or sweet nothings or even those _awful_ sappy songs Ten puts on their shared playlist, but whoever this was sitting alone in this room right now was singing every every word like he meant it- whatever it was he was even actually singing— _Cantonese? —_ and when the song came to its end, and dark, soulful eyes opened slowly to meet his own—

-

Yangyang blinks. “I don’t know his name.” Guanheng stares. 

“I...left.”

“You ran.” Guanheng finishes. For once in his life, Yangyang has nothing to say- nothing he _could_ say. 

“I guess I actually do believe you. Holy shit.” Guanheng then throws his head back in what’s almost a _cackle_ . “Wait ‘till Ten hears about this, oh my _God_.”

-

It took all of Yangyang’s strength, willpower, and $30 to get Guanheng to keep quiet about Yangyang’s little crush. 

A crush, by the way, he had no intention of acting upon— the fact that he did not know mystery boy’s name made him realize that maybe he _was_ being a little dramatic. As stated before, Yangyang does _not_ fall so easily, and _never_ at first sight— that was the one concept of love and romance Yangyang couldn’t even attempt to hide his disdain for, almost getting in a fight with Ten in the 10th grade over Yangyang rolling his eyes at the idea of Johnny Suh from the bus stop being The One the literal first day of school. 

No, Yangyang has no patience for crushes and delusions of love at first sight. What he _does_ have a lot of patience for is beautiful, mysterious people with harmonious voices and spending quality time with his nice roommate, so if he’s able to kill two birds with one stone by accompanying Kun again to the Music and Performing Arts center, then so be it. Quick maths.

(Guanheng rolled his eyes and bought his lunch with half of Yangyang’s $30.)

And it’s definitely not weird at all to be peering through the cracked open door again while Kun is chatting with his professor, but just in case, Yangyang’s sitting on the floor, his phone plugged into the outlet next to the door. Mystery boy is singing another Cantonese song today. Yangyang doesn’t speak Cantonese but he thinks he can understand everything almost perfectly from how he sings it— pure passion and sorrow and immaculate technique. 

Yangyang thinks back to his lifelong idols in almost everything he loves— basketball, music, fashion, everything in between— he thinks that this is perhaps the closest he could come to a crush, the pure admiration of someone clearly on top of their craft. Mystery boy has this down pat, going through key changes as effortless as breathing, with the sort of power that Yangyang knows has to be from _somewhere_ , no way you could teach someone this kind of _soul_ or—

“Yangyang?” He flinches and jumps up, yanking his charging cable and sending his phone flying across the hall— ah _fuck_. 

“You done?” Yangyang whips his head towards Kun, Kun’s eyes currently flitting between Yangyang and his chucked phone mildly amused, mostly confused.

“Ah well, almost.” Kun replies, handing Yangyang’s phone back to him. “I actually just have to speak to my project partner for a second. Is that okay? I can buy you lunch right after this.”

“Yeah dude, of course.” Yangyang is a little grateful for this distraction, since he was getting _way_ into whatever the hell he was waxing poetic about just before Kun arrived.

He’s also maybe a little relieved— his running internal monologue has revealed to him that this is not, in fact, a crush, but just an appreciation and admiration of an amazing singer he happened to stumble upon. An admittedly intense one that almost tricked Yangyang’s brain chemicals for a cool minute into thinking-

“Awesome.” Kun smiles and swings open the door they’re standing in front of, and Yangyang almost chokes on nothing when mystery boy’s head turns to look at them both. Yeah, it really wasn’t enough for mystery boy to have this ethereal voice— he just _had_ to be stupid good-looking too. Sharp eyes consider Kun first before looking over at Yangyang, completely expressionless. Yangyang swallows. 

“Sorry to interrupt.” Kun smiles again, completely unfazed. Mystery boy nods and accepts Kun’s little bro-handshake, before looking back at Yangyang again, his face expressing _something—_ annoyance? Yangyang settles for confusion instead, so he won’t combust right in that spot. 

“Er, I’m Kun’s roommate. Yangyang. I’m Yangyang.” He spits out, his smile (hopefully) nice and friendly. Mystery boy’s eyes shift slightly, almost as if he were sizing Yangyang up, and Yangyang stiffens that much more under his piercing gaze— God, _what the hell is my problem._

“Xiao Dejun.” _Even the way he introduces himself is cool. Fuck._

“Are you okay with meeting every Friday?” Kun asks, oblivious to Yangyang’s crisis. Mystery boy— _Dejun —_ looks back at him with a small smile and nod. “Fridays?” Yangyang blurts out, and just like that, Dejun’s eyes are back on _him_ , _shit._

“We’re collaborating on a song together for class.” Kun answers helpfully. “I knew I had to ask after hearing him sing last week in class, you should really hear him, Yangyang.”

Yangyang’s head whips too fast to the side in a sad attempt to not be too obvious, but his cursed nervous habit of talking way too much when he’s nervous renders it all useless. 

“I have- or I MEAN. I _can._ If you want.” Kun and Dejun stare. “This Friday?” Kun brightens at this then. 

“Oh, you wanna come? Yeah, sure! We can get lunch after!” Kun turns towards Dejun, who’s glancing back and forth between the two, now _for sure_ confused. He nods anyway— “I don’t mind either way.”

Kun’s smile remains bright as Yangyang tries not to sink to the floor because _what_ was he thinking inviting himself to Kun and Dejun’s project get-together that he has no business being at _and_ is probably going to be boring— and knowing Kun, early as _fuck_ on the day Yangyang has no classes—

Dejun’s still looking at Yangyang. Yangyang slams back to Earth, back straight and smile (hopefully) just as bright as Kun’s. 

“It’s a date then.” Kun says, and Yangyang winces. Dejun nods and gives his little smile again before taking his leave. Yangyang resists the urge to turn back and watch him leave because literally— _what the fuck is my problem._

 _  
_Kun pats his shoulder to usher them out and Yangyang thinks maybe this is the feeling that Dejun was channeling into song— the paralyzing despair of _something_ in a language he can’t comprehend but feels so, so powerfully and painfully in the pit of his stomach. 

_Am I really, actually in fucking love?_ It’s stupid, it’s so stupid and dumb and when Yangyang lies down for the rest of the night after a round of late night studying, he can’t help but think of mysterious, beautiful Dejun’s stupid scary eyes and sharp cheekbones and beautiful eyebrows, his passionate, amazing voice and the way he looked at him, gaze steady and alluring when he walked into the room—

“Hey.” Kun whispers and pats his shoulder the way a guidance counselor might to a scared little kid. “You okay?”

“Awesome.” Yangyang answers. He was groaning out loud apparently. He _wants_ to bash his head in the wall, but he settles for going to sleep instead.

-

As previously noted and confirmed, Dejun is so, _so_ cool when he sings, eyes shut, lost in the pure, unfiltered emotion he pours into every note. Kun’s piano playing was already beautiful, and Dejun just takes it to even greater heights— Kun looks over the moon at the end of this practice, like even he can’t deny that Dejun is the fucking _coolest._

When he sings. 

When Dejun is not singing, he’s immediately tripping over the stool he was seated at during their practice as they’re leaving the practice room. He’s also now currently throwing his head back in loud, goofy, _squeaky_ laughter at something Kun said over lunch afterwards in the middle of the cafeteria, almost the way Guanheng does it but somehow even _worse._ He’s also _really_ slow at eating? Which Kun seems fine with, since they’re having a blast talking, but at some point, Yangyang would really, really like to go back to his dorm, or just _do_ anything else. 

But instead, Yangyang sits beside Kun awkwardly, not sure how at all to process this new information. Dejun’s eyes aren’t scary anymore with the way he smiles— his _actual_ smile, not the tiny, captivating one he gave them the first day they met. This one is wide and reveals really oddly sharp teeth, like what the _fuck._

Yangyang scolds himself internally because he’s really, _really_ trying not to be mean, but this is just so far removed from what Yangyang thought Dejun was supposed to be, it’s not even _funny._

Except. Maybe it is a tiny bit funny.

Funny enough for Yangyang to suddenly let out the relieved burst of laughter he didn’t know he was holding in. It startles Kun and Dejun laughs so hard at Kun’s reaction, he snorts _loudly_. The spell is broken— Dejun is _not cool_. Not even a little bit. Yangyang is _free._

He’s definitely going to let himself have it at his dorm later today for even once entertaining the idea that this fleeting feeling could have been anything more than just a misjudgment of respectful and normal admiration, because he still has to hand it to him— Dejun could sing like nobody’s business. But the Dejun Yangyang thought he was not was not the Dejun sitting in front of him, and that realization was like three Christmases and Birthdays in a row for Yangyang.

It was _not_ love at first sight— hell, it probably wasn’t even a _crush._ Dejun was somehow even dorkier than Kun, and that guy does _magic tricks_.

Yangyang could not possibly be more satisfied than at that moment. He was already internally drafting a gloating text to Guanheng when Dejun _finally_ finished eating and they were heading back to the music room, where Kun wanted to speak to their professor one last time for the day. 

Yangyang thinks Dejun might have glanced over at him once or twice on the way back, but he doesn’t care, and it’s _awesome._ Dejun’s face is back to perfectly neutral expression Yangyang first met him with, but like _who cares_ and _who’s even paying attention to that, not me anymore—_

There’s a familiar game jingle that suddenly plays from Dejun’s phone that almost startles Yangyang, as the two wait for Kun to finish speaking with his professor.

“You play?” Yangyang blurts out before he could stop himself, and Dejun turns to look at him. He has that expression Yangyang couldn’t quite read before when they first met, and with a clearer mind now, Yangyang thinks he might know what the expression means now. Dejun looks at him almost as though he’s shocked Yangyang is even speaking to him.

“Yeah. Do you?”

“Yeah.” Silence. _Okay then_.

Kun comes back to meet them, and with another bro-handshake, they go their separate ways. Yangyang and Dejun barely even say goodbye to one another, with just a quick nod from Dejun before he’s turning away— gone from Yangyang’s life. 

Realistically, there’s no reason for Yangyang to see him anymore. He’s never once ran into Dejun on campus before this, with their respective majors’ centers being on the opposite sides of one another, and Yangyang plays no part in Kun and Dejun’s assignment. He was the one-time tag-along who just had to hear Dejun’s amazing voice, and he did. 

He also did not know, or care, about Dejun, because it is impossible to have a crush on someone you didn’t know or care about, and Yangyang sure as hell did not have the patience or desire to entertain any ideas suggesting otherwise any longer. The forty-eight hour period of having a “crush” had to have been maybe one of the weirdest, most irritating moments of his life, so honestly, _good riddance_. He would never see or hear Dejun again.

But. Dejun _does_ play Yangyang’s favorite mobile game that literally nobody else plays. And Yangyang really wasn’t so callous to send someone who did him no harm off with _good riddance._

 _  
_Against his better judgment, Yangyang looks back. Dejun was long gone, but something about his expression when Yangyang spoke to him for the first time, one on one he realized, lingered.

He needs a gaming buddy. That must be it. “Hey Kun. What’s Dejun’s number?”

-

Dejun texts so formally, it almost fixes Yangyang’s posture. 

By formally, he means that Dejun types out complete sentences with prosper punctuation, and Yangyang grumbles because who does he think he is, responding all properly and respectfully to _hey wats up this is yangyang_? Yangyang shoots him a defiant sunglasses-face emoji— he will _not_ be intimidated by mister MLA formatted texter— and Dejun responds with the cat smiley face. Oh. _Okay_. 

With the ice more or less broken, Yangyang invites Dejun to a couple rounds of their shared mobile game. Dejun’s good— good in the way that Yangyang suspects means that Dejun might game quite often. He chews the inside of his cheek in contemplation. 

_u play on pc?_ He types out after their last round. 

_Yeah. Do you?_

_yea_

Dejun’s voice comes clear through Yangyang’s headset, and Yangyang resists a residual shudder from having his voice so clear to his ear. He unfortunately has to admit Dejun’s speaking voice is quite nice, but it would only have to be with how good his singing voice was.

 _Just remember his goofy ass laugh._ Yangyang frowns then, immediately after— _relax._ He’s really not usually this mean, is he?

Just as he thought, Dejun really was quite good at games. “You don’t have Saturday classes, right?” Yangyang asks.

“No…”

Yangyang pauses for a moment. He had really just wanted someone else to play his dumb little mobile game with at least once, he thinks. He doesn’t like how he has to add _I think_ at the end of that statement. But if they already graduated onto PC gaming…maybe a second round wouldn’t be so bad?

“Let’s play again then tomorrow. You down?” There’s a pause on Dejun’s end now, the sound of movement softly crackly through the headset.

“You don’t think I might have plans tomorrow?” Not quite the response Yangyang has expected from him at this point. _Huh._ He thinks there’s no venom behind his words, but he doesn't know for sure, of course. But Yangyang’s never one to back down from a challenge either. 

“Nope.” Testing the waters. Another pause, and Yangyang thinks for a split second that this might be the end of this possible gaming partnership before Dejun barks out a laugh on the other end of the headset that gives Yangyang a light jolt.

“You’re something, huh?” It’s the same time as just before, but something about it makes Yangyang laugh now. It almost just makes him want to poke at him just a _little_ more. 

“But I’m right, right? So you’re down.” Another pause, and a sigh.

“Yeah, I’m down.” Yangyang smiles maybe a little too triumphantly. They play for not too much longer after before Dejun signs off for the night— _9:00pm?_ _On a Friday?_ Yangyang glances at the clock and scoffs in disbelief. _Nerd_. 

Later that night, at the cool and normal bedtime of 1:00 AM on a Friday, Yangyang thinks back on earlier. There’s really nothing weird about playing games with Dejun. With his mistaken crush out of the way, Dejun actually _could_ become a gaming buddy now, maybe. God knows Yangyang needs one with how bad Guanheng and Ten are.

So it’s fine. It’s fine. It’s all good. 

_You’re something, huh._ Yangyang tries not to think too hard about it, but those words, and the full and deep tone of the voice they came from, drift in and out the back of his mind, just as he drifts off to sleep. 

-

One Saturday turns into two Saturdays, then three.

On the third Saturday, Yangyang is both worried about the consistent amount of time he’s (sort of) spending time with Dejun, and also the three consecutive Saturday nights in a row he’s spent stuck in his room playing video games. He’s also starving. He glances at his table clock: 6:00PM. He’ll probably see Ten and Guanheng after they’re finished with their respective work shifts, but he still has a couple of hours to kill. 

He chews the inside of the cheek in contemplation, glancing between the pixels on screen and his phone next to him on his desk.

 _u hungry?_ He texts. They’re actually still in the middle of a game, but a response comes almost immediately.

_Yeah._

So they’re back at the cafeteria again, this time without Kun. They’re also now having their first actual conversation, Yangyang’s realized— he couldn’t pick up too many details about Dejun’s daily life while playing online together, beyond Dejun having the sleeping schedule of a grandma and having two roommates apparently. He learns that Dejun is majoring in Music Composition, just like Kun. 

“Kun’s really amazing honestly. He’s really good at singing too.” Yangyang swallows something down at this— he kind of wants to tell Dejun how good his own voice is. But he won’t— not directly, anyway.

“But you’re better, right?” Dejun sputters immediately at this, and Yangyang’s come to earth-shattering revelation that Dejun blushes _really_ easily. He’s almost a little too giddy over this.

“No...I’m telling Kun you said that.” Dejun narrows his eyes before turning away, taking a too-long sip of his water. Call it a petty form of revenge on Yangyang’s part, but discovering how easy it is to rile Dejun up feels a little _too_ good after Yangyang was tricked into Dejun was some untouchable ice queen (and yes, that was _totally_ Dejun’s fault, trust him).

“You think you’re good though, right?” Dejun looks back at him, blinking owlishly mid-chew. 

“Yeah.” Yangyang laughs— another response he didn’t entirely expect.

“Show off.”

“How am I showing off if _you_ asked _me_?”

“Could’ve just been like ‘Oh, who? Little ol’ me?’”

“Why lie?” Yangyang laughs even harder at this, and at the fact that Dejun looks way too ready to defend his own honor, posture defensive and his face so _sincere_. His face was way more expressive than Yangyang could have ever even imagined from their first in-person meeting.

“What’s your major?” Dejun asks after. “Biochem.” Yangyang responds, and laughs just as hard again at Dejun’s eyes flying open. 

“That shocking? You thought I was that dumb?” Dejun’s face somehow gets even redder and Yangyang thinks he might never get enough of this— _wait._

“Not at all.” Dejun almost pouts. _Don’t go there_. “I just...since you were with Kun, I thought you were maybe a music major too.” A pause, before he suddenly adds: “I wish I could do math.” 

Yangyang barks out a laugh, ready to say anything to steer him off wherever his mind is trying to take him, before he’s just saying _anything_ again— “You want me to teach you?” He’s kidding— he _has_ to be kidding because there’s no way he’s entertaining the thought of hanging out with Dejun again after this. Not when he—

“Really?” Dejun asks, deathly serious and strangely hopeful. “I…I’m kind of having trouble with Algebra 2…”* His face is way too sincere again, way too pitiful and way too— too _something_ that Yangyang _doesn’t_ like, but he hears himself responding anyway.

“Yeah, dude, really.”

Dejun smiles, and they finish their meals not too long after. They clean up after themselves and Dejun waves a happy good-bye, turning the other way and leaving Yangyang with a study session for Monday and a sinking feeling in his stomach. He really didn’t want to see Dejun again. And yet he does. He didn’t have a bad time— not at all. He might’ve actually had a little too good a time. The realization leaves a small flutter in his chest that he shoves away completely, as he pulls up Guanheng’s number to figure out his plans after work.

-

Like with their gaming sessions, Yangyang didn’t know how often to expect their study sessions to be a thing, and like with their gaming sessions as well, one study session eventually turns into three. 

He’s actually cool with it now though— the library is nice and warm compared to autumn chill settling in outside, and Dejun buys him coffee and snacks every time, even when Yangyang had refused at first (and okay, only once). 

Dejun’s not as bad at math as he made himself out to be. It’s just difficult for him to connect the concepts together. Dejun gave Yangyang a skeptical look at him for coming to this conclusion, but Yangyang thinks this is the struggle most people have with math— it’s one thing to learn and memorize an equation, and another entirely to understand _why_ you would even use that equation in the first place. Dejun’s scribbling his notes down like his life depends on it, and Yangyang’s only a _little_ flattered.

“I never thought of it that way, but it makes sense.” Dejun says suddenly a little after, looking up from his homework over at Yangyang currently biting into his (free!) muffin. “I guess I just always thought I could maybe just get away with memorizing…” He rubs at his neck, clearly embarrassed.

“Don’t sweat it, it’s not that easy at first.” Yangyang responds, hoping he sounds as sincere as he feels. Dejun seems to believe it, but scoffs anyway, no real venom in his voice— “You think _you’re_ good though, right?”

“Why lie.” Yangyang goes back to his muffin, and Dejun huffs out a laugh. 

“But honestly, I think most people suck at teaching math. I think I just got lucky that I just kinda...get it. Like it just makes sense to me, you know?” Yangyang adds on to Dejun’s curious look. “Like it just follows a good set of rules. If you get it, then you just...get it.” Dejun frowns. “Like, you can’t fuck up if you know what you’re doing! There’s a— a _logic_ to it.” Yangyang snaps his fingers once he finds the right words— he’s never actually had to explain his process of thinking to anyone in this way, he realizes.

Dejun whistles. “The mind of a biochem major…I kind of hate that there’s so many rules.”

“I mean, isn’t writing music kind of like that?” 

Dejun shrugs. “There’s rules, yeah— or more just foundations you should master. But beyond that, music is just what you want it to be. Whatever your mind can come up— whatever you’re feeling.” 

Yangyang thinks back to his old violin lessons of past. He thinks there probably _is_ a difference between practicing the technical art of playing an instrument, versus the process of actually _creating_ a song. It’s nothing he has any real experience with. Most art-related things, he’s had to put away for the sheer workload he’s been given, thanks to his major. He can’t even remember the last time he picked up a pencil to sketch and doodle like back in high school, choosing video games every time for his leisure time instead. He almost feels a tiny bit guilty at this. 

Yangyang shrugs and laughs, if only to shake the feeling off. “I guess I’m just not that creative.” 

Dejun shakes his head, way too sincere once again— something Yangyang’s realized he’s like, quite often. “Everyone’s creative. You just have to learn how to tap into it.” 

Yangyang doesn’t know what sort of expression he has on his face currently, but it must be _something_ dumb because Dejun laughs right at it. “You want me to teach _you_?”— and Yangyang freezes, for just a moment.

“You’re getting way too ahead of yourself for someone who barely learned what _y=mx+b_ is.” Dejun laughs heartily again, giving Yangyang a shove to his shoulder that Yangyang barely dodges. “You’re really something…” Dejun says under his breath, looking back at his notes with a small smile that can’t help but linger like before, in the back of Yangyang’s mind for the rest of the day.

-

Dejun was teasing, but their conversation stayed in Yangyang’s mind for a few days after anyway. 

Like he’s acknowledged before, Yangyang is fascinated by masters of their craft. It’s what initially had drew him towards Dejun in the first place, in a Time That Must Not Be Acknowledged— the way Dejun seemed so completely in control of his voice reminded Yangyang of his other favorite musicians, or skilled artists and gamers on YouTube he liked to watch, or even his favorite basketball players— people who went beyond just knowing and memorizing moves, people who _understood_ what they were doing— what laid beneath their respective crafts, that they learned to tap into to make them excel. 

It gave him the same rush and satisfaction solving a riddle or a particularly hard homework problem gave him ( _if that wasn’t the fucking nerdiest thing I’ve ever admitted,_ he frowned). There was just something satisfying about applying this kind of sense and logic to everything— the idea that everything could be broken down and figured out and put back together in its place. 

It had never really occurred to him before that you could perhaps do that with creativity itself— Yangyang always felt that was just something you were _born_ with. Yangyang was born with being good at math, Dejun and Kun were born with writing songs— logic vs. creativity, left brain vs. right brain, you know— _the classics_. 

And from the few times he heard Dejun at his own craft, there was just no way Dejun could’ve been taught to sing the way he does— technique, maybe, but _soul —_ there’s _no_ way.

But Dejun seemed so assured in saying that _everyone_ was creative. And he was still teasing when he told Yangyang he could teach him.

But _could_ he teach him?

“Hey, how do you write a song?” Dejun looks up from his notes on the library table, blinking again at Yangyang currently sipping his (free!!!) coffee, as nonchalantly as Yangyang can muster.

“What part do you mean?”

“I don’t know...just. The entire song.” Dejun blinks, again. “All of it. The whole thing.”

Yangyang wonders (not _worries_ ) if maybe he sounds really, _really_ dumb, to be asking an _artiste_ to divulge their process. But Dejun does seem to consider this question very, very seriously, before he suddenly shoves his notes into his bag and slings it over his shoulder.

“Why don’t you come to the Music Center with me? I should probably work a bit on my part of the project anyway.” It’s Yangyang’s turn to blink up at Dejun now before he can register what exactly is happening— “Oh, uh, sure.”

The walk over to the Music Center is quick enough, and they’re soon settled in the same room Kun had played the same piano for Yangyang before. Yangyang settles for a stool nearby while Dejun plops himself down right in front of the piano itself.

“You play?” Yangyang asks, and Dejun smiles, only a little smugly. 

“I do. Guitar too.” 

“Didn’t ask but okay.” Yangyang leans back from Dejun swatting him with his hand. “What are you gonna show me then, oh, great prodigy?” 

Yangyang then realizes very quickly he might’ve gotten too smart, too soon— Dejun overloads him with music theory that makes his head spin. Yangyang’s a big fan of music, of course, _‘cause like who fucking isn’t_ , but the depths Dejun delves into while explaining it to him— Yangyang realizes sheepishly this might be some of the stuff he tunes a bit sometimes, when Kun’s chatting away about his classwork. _Sorry Kun_.

And yet, Yangyang wants to know more. So he asks questions, and Dejun lets him take a look at his notes from class. They don’t clear up a ton, but Yangyang does think he could be getting somewhere with this— perhaps if he takes a music class for one of his general education requirements next semester. 

“So what do you do with this then?”

“What do you mean?”

“How do you make a song?”

“I don’t know...you just make it.”

“Oh, okay. Well thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule, sir, I know it must’ve difficult to—“ Yangyang dodges yet another swat— “I thought _you_ said you could _teach me!_ ”— before Dejun scoots over on the piano bench, leaving a small space open. Yangyang stops talking immediately to stare blankly at it.

“It would make more sense to show you.” Right. _Right_. “Right.”

He takes a seat next to Dejun, and Dejun runs his hands across the keys before he starts playing, step by step-- a song structure, a melody, simple chords— the room fills with light, cheery music that Yangyang listens easily to. It’s different from the type of songs Yangyang had heard him singing to before— _much_ brighter, happier, almost breezy. 

Yangyang wonders then how Dejun might sing along to this. He watches Dejun’s hands glide over the keys and his eyes soon wander up to the profile of his face. Even with how simple the impromptu piece is, Dejun is fully concentrated, eyes shut and mouth pulled tight. His eyelashes are very long. 

They flutter open when the song finishes and Yangyang whips his head away to the side, very interested suddenly on the top of the piano.

“I don’t know if that really helped at all…” Dejun starts, sheepishly.

Yangyang shrugs. “It was nice.” Dejun smiles, and Yangyang resists the urge to look away again. “But, how did you decide that would be the song?”

“Like how did I come up with that?” Yangyang nods. “I mean, at that point, that’s just when it’s whenever you’re inspired by...like,” Dejun points at the window right beside the piano. “It’s sunny out today, even as the weather’s getting coldEr. So I just channeled that.” 

“Ah. Sap.” Another swat to dodge, and Yangyang laughs. “It’s not bad! Just didn’t know you were into things like that.” 

“Things like what?”

“I don’t know, like...nature and shit.”

“Nature and shit.”

Yangyang nods again. “Nature and shit. Very ‘Guy That Plays Piano’ of you.”

“So you ask _me_ to show you how to write a song and you have the audacity to make fun of _my_ process?”

, Dejun’s face is almost as cold as it was the day Yangyang first met him, and Yangyang’s smile drops almost completely— did he actually, for real _now_ truly fuck up, _now_ of all times? Yangyang can’t lie, he definitely loves pressing buttons, but he hates actually _hurting_ feelings. Were all the jokes and comments maybe just too soon, too much _—_ _have_ they been too soon, _too much_ —

“Pfft.” Yangyang blinks as Dejun bowels over in laughter, finger pointed right at him and almost leaning into Yangyang’s shoulder. “Your _face_.” Yangyang’s mouth gapes open and shut.

“Y-you-“

“You’re really not as cool as you think are, you know.” Dejun smiles smugly, turning back around to the piano. Oh, _what_.

“YOU should be saying that about _yourself_ , talking about ‘ _Ooohhhhh look the sun’s out, ooohhhh look at me writing my little songs’—_ “ 

This time, Dejun’s swat lands right on Yangyang’s shoulder, and it almost pushes him off the bench entirely before Dejun grabs his arm swiftly, and yanks him back forward. He’s laughing too hard to even see Yangyang’s face, eyes wide in shock, before he bursts into infectious laughter himself.

They leave the Music Center not too long after that. Yangyang buys Dejun cookies from the vending machine nearby as a peace offering, and Dejun shares half. They sit out on the benches, soaking up the warmth the sun has to offer, and Yangyang glances over at Dejun again, the soft curve of his long eyelashes pointed upwards towards the sky.

-

From all their meetings, Yangyang’s come to learn a lot about Dejun— he and his family originally come from Guangdong (which explains the Cantonese), he exercises pretty regularly to stay healthy but can’t resist sweets, he’s a total dog person, and yes, he _does_ try to go to bed before 10:00 PM everyday ( _“AH_ , Dejun it’s almost 4:00 PM! You need me to help you brush your teeth, grandpa?— _ACK”_ as Dejun swiftly knocks the back of his knees over).

He’s also learned that with his decently tight schedule of class and errands, Dejun doesn’t actually have too many friends on campus. He only became acquainted with Kun through pairing up for their class project. 

So Yangyang makes the very measured, deliberated, cautious and informed decision to introduce him to Guanheng and Ten. 

_do NOT be weird._ Yangyang texts Guanheng in his most threatening tone. There’s no use in attempting to reign in Ten, so he has to at least try with Guanheng.

_Why would i be weird? :-)_

_only psychos put noses in their emojis so ur not helping your case_

It all actually goes very well— _great_ even, really. The four of them meet up at a ramen place not too far from campus, and Dejun hits if off well with Guanheng and Ten almost immediately, so much so that Yangyang can’t help but wonder a little as to why it took him and Dejun so long to even consider hanging out beyond gaming sessions. It occurs to him that even after all this time now, with how _much_ time they’ve spent together at this point, this may actually be the first time they’re hanging out with no other pretenses. It gives him pause, but he can’t dwell on it for long when he feels Guanheng bumping his shoulder lightly with his own. 

Guanheng nods his head a little towards Dejun and Ten, completely engrossed in conversation. Ten’s showing Dejun something on his phone, and Yangyang leans forward when he hears music— “Ah, me too!” Dejun says excitedly, grabbing Ten’s equally excited hand. “I love this song!” They’re almost _squealing_ with excitement and Yangyang glances back at Guanheng, who simply shrugs, amused. Yangyang, for whatever reason, doesn’t feel quite as amused.

“Wait— is that our playlist?” Yangyang asks, leaning forward even more to get a better look at Ten’s phone screen. 

“Yes, but it is no longer _our_ shared playlist— it’s mine and _Dejun’s_ now, because _someone_ doesn’t appreciate _my_ music.” Ten pauses, eyes upwards in thought. “Guanheng can stay too.” Guanheng pumps his fist in the air.

“Oh, you’re talking about your TJ Maxx ballads.” Yangyang responds, unimpressed, and Dejun looks more than offended enough in Ten’s honor. 

“My TJ Maxx ballads that have to sit alongside whatever SoundCloud rapper you’ve decided to do charity work for this week.” Ten bites back, snatching his phone away from Yangyang’s view and turning back to Dejun, now queuing up another cliche love song Yangyang usually can’t skip fast enough.

“Is that your favorite kind of music, Dejun?” Guanheng asks conversationally, and Dejun looks back up in their direction, rubbing the back of his neck shyly. 

“Well, I like all kinds but…”

“But you’re a romantic at heart.” Ten finishes, smile wide as he shakes Dejun’s shoulder. “Kindred spirits, I can tell.” Dejun _giggles_ like he’s guilty and clutches the hand that’s grasping his shoulder and Yangyang can’t stop glancing back and forth between the two of them because _What_. 

“Well, Dejun’s a musician and here he is liking _my_ music, so who wins?” Ten grins mischievously in the way he always does, except for some reason, it’s poking at Yangyang’s nerves in a way it hasn’t before. He’s not sure what he’s about to respond before Guanheng swoops in, effectively cutting off anything Yangyang might have said— _what was I even going to say?_

“Dejun, you’re Cantonese, right? You like any oldies?” Guangheng switches over to Cantonese himself and Dejun’s eyes brighten in delighted surprise. They’re swept up in their own conversation now, and Yangyang glances over at Ten from across the table. 

Ten meets his eyes, and smiles his usual smile, mischievous and cute. Yangyang smiles back, and for some reason, it feels tight.

Their ramen finally arrives at this moment and the rest of the night goes nice and smooth, with Dejun even offering to pay the tab entirely before the three of them effectively bully him out of it, splitting four ways instead. It turns out Ten’s dorm is closer to Dejun’s than anyone else’s, so the two bid Yangyang and Guanheng goodbye for the night with a smothering hug from Ten and a small wave from Dejun before they walk off on their own, still chattering away like _schoolgirls_. 

Yangyang watches them leave for just a bit. Dejun— _neither —_ of them look back.

“That was him, right?” Guanheng’s voice knocks Yangyang out of his thoughts. “Your Romeo, your dreamboat, your king, your Mr.-“

“My _bro_.”

“You’ve barely called _anyone_ bro since high school, what are you now, joining a frat? Straight?” Guanheng quickly dodges a very sloppy shove from Yangyang.

“I call everyone bro, _bro_! But...yeah, that was him. Was. _Was!”_ Guanheng puts his hands up in defense, but Yangyang knows better. “For real, I’m being serious. It was never actually serious, I was being dramatic, you were…right…”

“I’m storing that away for future reference. But either way, it seems like you two get along really well, I’m glad. He’s a cool guy.” Guanheng smiles easily, the way he always does. But Yangyang can’t help but still feel somehow he’s being put on the spot— was this him overreacting? Being dramatic, _again_? 

“Yeah...yeah, he is pretty cool. Well, in his own weird way, I guess.” He shrugs. It’s dark and chilly out on campus where they’re crossing yards of green lawn to make way to their dorms, and Yangyang picks up the pace slightly. They’ve fallen silent, and Yangyang concentrates on the mist his breath forms in the cold air.

“Hey, you know...Ten still likes Johnny, right?” Guanheng eventually says as they finally near their dorms. Yangyang’s head whips fast towards him at this.

“Yeah, dude…why are you telling me right now?” Guanheng glances over at Yangyang— for all his silly jokes and antics, Yangyang knew and loved Guanheng as a sincere and very honest friend. He just didn’t know how much he liked that about him right now.

“I think you know why I’m saying that. I could be wrong of course— and if I am, that’s completely my bad. But.” 

Yangyang’s face grows hot— whether from anger or anything else, he’s not sure. “Dude, I-- come on, I’m not…” Guanheng’s large eyes are like a signaling light shining right at Yangyang, and he cannot, for the life of him, understand _why_ he’s feeling so defensive right now. “I’m not... _jealous_ , okay? And even if I was, there’s no way I’d ever think of Ten in that way…”

Guanheng lets out a sigh, almost as if we were talking to a child. Yangyang wants to feel angry, almost _does—_ but Guanheng pats his shoulder, and it all melts away with how sincere he looks. 

“I know you would never want to think of him that way. And I know you know Ten would never do anything to hurt you. And I know that you say there’s nothing going on, and I believe you.” Guanheng’s grip tightens on his shoulder, the same way something grips inside Yangyang’s chest. 

“But if that were the case— and I’m not saying it _is,_ but if it _were —_ maybe...you’re just feeling something you’re not used to. Something you don’t know how to handle yet, and it’s making you act and feel a way you don’t know to deal with. But just know that none of us are against you. You don’t have to take it out on others. I know you wouldn’t want to anyway.”

Guanheng releases his hand from Yangyang’s shoulder. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?” With that, Guanheng turns and leaves Yangyang at the front of his door, with Yangyang staring back until he vanishes into the dark, left only with his shallow breathing forming mist that quickly disappears into nothing.

-

It’s an ugly emotion that settles in Yangyang’s stomach, and he knows it’s there, and Guanheng is right- he _doesn’t_ know what to do with it. 

What he _does_ do is shoot Ten a text the next day while laying on his bed: _i’m sorry for calling ur songs songs they play at the dentist’s office on wednesdays_

_Baby you’re always saying that about my songs lol it’s ok, what’s wrong?_

Yangyang’s thumb hovers over his phone, unsure how to answer.

_yea but i guess i mean like it was fucked up to make fun of u like that in front of dejun since u don’t know him that well_

_Ah you know I don’t care about shit like that lol. Dejun’s so nice btw lol he’s super cute_

_He likes all my songs too so :) you’re replaced <3 _

Yangyang huffs out a smile at that. He’s happy Ten doesn’t seem to think Yangyang was being off in any way that night, but Guanheng’s words still leave Yangyang feeling sick over feelings he doesn’t want to confront. But if it makes him at risk of hurting his friends, then he would have to.

Was he actually jealous? And if he was, of _what_ exactly? He flips over this side, frowning. Guanheng’s right (again, sadly), he’s never truly felt like this, but he’s not dumb enough to not know the cause.

Dejun is nice. Dejun’s dorky and goofy and not cool at all, even a little bit, but he’s nice and funny and thoughtful. He has a perspective on things Yangyang finds interesting. He’s handsome. Yangyang frowns at how hot his face feels now, but it’s true. He probably, most likely, maybe kinda sorta may have a small crush on Dejun. Maybe.

And...maybe that was fine. He never thought he would be saying that, but maybe it was actually okay to be feeling this way. Honestly, why wouldn’t he be? He’s spent a lot of time with Dejun now, they _do_ get along well— granted, these are things that are all true of his relationships with Guanheng, Ten, and Kun as well, and he’s never felt this way towards any of _them_ before, but he’s come to realize there both is and isn’t any sense at all to crushes, which is exactly the reason he never wanted to bother with them in the first place.

He doesn’t know _why_ it had to be _Dejun_ of all people. But at the same time, who else could it be?

Yangyang buries his face to his pillow. He doesn’t want to think about the how or why or when any longer. All he _needs_ to do now is ride this crush out. He technically already had one before, and Liu Yangyang simply just does not fall easily, hard, or at all— how hard could it be to get over another one again, on the same person?

 _Am I really even going to bother with this?...like, is it for real now?_ He lays on his back and thinks to when he thought he might have fallen for Dejun when he was the mysterious figure he thought he’d only admire from afar, and how that feels like so far away from the actual Dejun that had closed on him without him entirely realizing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * = i’m not sure if this is the same in every college system, but just in case it’s not, in CA for university, you’re required to take upper division/general education courses that are not related to your major, which is why xiaojun is taking a math class here lol
> 
> thank you for reading and i hope you enjoyed it 🥰 i have a decent amount of the second chapter done as this originally meant to just be a one-shot, but it just ended up a little too long for that for my liking lol


	2. Chapter 2

Hanging out with Dejun after this revelation doesn’t actually feel _too_ different now, but Yangyang thinks that there are certain changes- certain _shifts_ in their relationship.

For one, it seems that Dejun and Yangyang have finally and officially cemented their friendship status after hanging out with Guanheng and Ten. Dejun texted him the day after thanking him for the invite, and by that following Monday, they hadn’t actually stopped texting. When Yangyang scrolls through their previous messages, it’s a relatively short, enthralling saga of _u here?- Yeah- are u online?- Yeah_ \- but _now_ , they’ve graduated onto actual paragraphs.

It’s all generally light for the most part, usually about their classes, their overall days, games, music, stupid memes— Yangyang usually only ever texts Ten and Guanheng to this extent, but it’s not until that Monday when they actually meet in person again and are heading out off campus because Dejun’s invited him for coffee that it hits him, for whatever reason, that the two of them really are genuinely friends now. It’s not what he expected from what he thought would be a one-time meal a little over a month ago, and it fills his stomach with butterflies that simultaneously make him feel like he’s floating and gagging.

The door jingle alerts Guanheng leaning against the register, phone in hand, looking bored out of his hand. “Got your ass on candid camera.” Yangyang‘s shoving his own phone in Guanheng’s face, who’s pointedly ignoring it in favor of waving at Dejun instead. “You work here, Guanheng?” Dejun asks happily, and Guanheng smiles brightly, having successfully wrestled Yangyang’s phone out of his hand from the side.

“Yup! Ten does too, actually. You guys should’ve come here later, I’m sure Ten would’ve loved to see you both here. Together.” Guanheng’s smile stays irritatingly perfect and Yangyang’s hand grips Guanheng’s tighter, gritting out his own. Dejun’s remains blissfully ignorant.

“We should’ve come here later ‘cause Ten gives better discounts.”

“I’ll give you a good one so you can pay for Dejun.”

“I’ll just pay for it with your tips instead.” Yangyang’s fingers hover above the tip jar next to Guanheng’s shoulders.

“I wouldn’t have actually _done_ it, _asshole_.” Yangyang grumbles once they’re seated, rubbing the sore spot on his arm Guanheng landed a nice and hard smack on. Dejun, the _freeloader,_ the _traitor—_ is not doing a good job of holding back his giggling at all. “The way you did it out of the camera view too— _you’re_ the evil one.” Yangyang stage-whispers towards Guangheng from their table, who's fully switched back into customer-service mode at the register, smile way too triumphant. 

“Do you work here with them?” Dejun asks Yangyang and brings his attention back to him, shaking his head. “I used to, a little while back, but I had to quit when school got too much. I don’t even know how Guanheng manages it with all his engineering stuff, but he’s just always been...Like That.” He gives a dismissive little hand wave that makes Dejun laugh again. 

“So you’ve known him for a while.” He states. Yangyang nods.

“Me, Guanheng and Ten all went to high school together. Ten’s older so he enrolled here first, but we all kinda grew up in the same area, and it’d be easier to adjust if we all had someone out here, so…” he ends with a shrug. Dejun seems so _touched_ by this that his gross perpetual sentimentality almost infects Yangyang too, because he really _has_ stuck with Guanheng and Ten through it all. They’ve stuck with _him_ , as annoying (but fun!) he can be.

 _And yet you still had the nerve to think of Ten that way—_ he squashes the thought before residual guilt threatens to close up his throat. “They can’t live without me anyway.” He thinks he hears Guanheng scoff from his barista area but he ignores it.

“That’s really nice.” Dejun says, completely sincere again in the way Yangyang would usually love to tease, but he decides to hold back this time _._ “I don’t think anyone I knew from my high school applied here.” Dejun says after, tapping his ring finger against his cup of coffee in thought, as though he hadn’t realized this before. His brows are furrowed, the way they always are when Yangyang asks him something that gives him pause. “Most of them ended up going to our local college too, I think. My local college back home didn’t really have that great a music program though...that was the case for Kun too, he told me. I think that’s why we ended up talking in the first place, actually.” 

“It wasn’t lonely, coming here by yourself?” Guanheng’s suddenly asking from across the counter. Dejun seems to consider this carefully again, brows furrowed again and swirling his cup in his hand. Yangyang really wonders when he began to pick up on what Dejun’s tiny habits are. He also finds himself curious as to what Dejun will say— he realizes they haven’t spoken a ton about their personal lives beyond the confines of their university yet.

“Not entirely.” Dejun finally says, eyes still trained on his cup. “My roommates are nice, and I met Kun pretty early on, so it’s not like I haven’t had anyone to talk to at all since I’ve come here.” His eyes then flicker back down to Guanheng before they suddenly lock onto Yangyang’s and _ohhh_ , Yangyang doesn’t think he likes that at all, but at the same time—

“I met Yangyang through Kun too, so.” He smiles softly, and Yangyang has to physically restrain himself from turning his head towards Guanheng, who’s practically _radiating_ the most obnoxious energy behind him. “At the perfect time too, I really needed a gaming partner. Sicheng just sucks at games, and Xuxi’s just...a lot.”

“Oh. Is that right.” Guanheng responds, his tone loaded with something that flies over right Dejun’s head to strike right at Yangyang’s nerves. Yangyang finally manages to sneak a glare, but Guanheng’s immaculate, customer service ready smile is one honed in and true, from years of experience.

“Are those two your roommates, Dejun?” Dejun nods and he’s plenty distracted now talking about the two, giving Yangyang a quick moment to turn away and settle down the heat in his cheeks— Guanheng’s evil, but he’ll never let him suffer for _too_ long. He might have to thank him for giving him a way out at least.

The door jingles open then and Guanheng is back on register while Dejun’s back to staring into his cup again. Yangyang’s managed to pick up on his little habits and minute facts of his life and interests, and now he wonders when they might go deeper— if either of them would be comfortable with that. If Dejun would even want that. _No way to know unless I try?_

“What were your friends like back home?” Dejun looks up from his hands at this, eyes wide, like he hadn’t entirely expected the question before he shrugs.

“They were cool. I haven’t actually spoken to a lot of them in a while, though. Back then, I didn’t have a lot of free time outside of school for a while with my piano lessons and stuff…” Something in the way he trails off tips Yangyang off as to why Dejun might have seemed so touched by the fact that he’s stuck by Ten and Guanheng for so long.

He shrugs. “Guanheng and Ten are basically the only friends I still talk to from high school. It’s fine.” Dejun smiles a little gratefully at this and it does _not_ warm Yangyang’s heart or anything, but it maybe puts a smile on his face too. Maybe.

They take their time after that conversation, with Guanheng popping in and out to chat as the work shifts slows down before they eventually finish up, resolving to leave while it’s still bright out. Yangyang does actually end up paying for the two, since it’s just easier, and Dejun pats his shoulder gratefully, promising to pick up the tab next time. Guanheng’s ever-present evil smile does _not_ stop Yangyang from feeling cool and adult for paying for his friends, nor does it stop the way his heart skips a beat just a little at _next time_.

Guanheng’s then chatting away with Dejun in Cantonese right before they’re about to head out. Whatever they’re saying seems to be delighting Dejun, and Yangyang sort of wants to know why but he is _not_ going to be nosy. Not in front of Guanheng at least.

“He said the four of us should hang out again.” Dejun tells Yangyang happily on the way back to campus. It’s only around 4:30 PM right now, but the sun’s already begun to slowly set, casting small rings of orange light onto Dejun’s dark hair. “I was actually thinking about it too...since midterms are coming up soon, if you want, we could all hang out together with my roommates too when it’s all over. The six of us and Kun. What do you think?”

“Don’t make me think about midterms, dude.” Yangyang scoffs but he can’t help the inexplicable fondness that rises in his stomach at the look on Dejun’s face, or at Guanheng going out of his way to invite him out. He still feels like gagging at little, but the weightless feeling is outweighing it a little more now. “But yeah, I’m down.”

-

The other shift Yangyang’s picked up on is that Dejun is clingier. A _lot_ clingier.

The first time he noticed was about a week after the coffee shop when they were making their across campus to the library to study together like usual and Dejun threw his arm over Yangyang’s shoulders like it was easy— like it was _nothing_. And it was nothing, but Yangyang froze for half a second anyway, before he could stop himself. Dejun didn’t even look over at him when he did it, eyes forward while talking (like nothing), but his arm’s drawn Yangyang closer to him. It’s nothing to freak out about though, so Yangyang doesn’t ( _really_ ).

It becomes a pretty consistent thing after that— either an arm tightly slung around his shoulder, or sometimes, Dejun opts for looping his arm around Yangyang’s instead. Yangyang’s no stranger to physical affection, really— that’s simply an impossibility when you’re friends with Ten, and even Guanheng to an extent. He just, for whatever reason, didn’t entirely expect this from _Dejun_. He thinks that sometimes, even now, he’s still a little thrown off by Dejun’s overall appearance— Dejun has maybe one of the worst cases of Resting Bitch Face Yangyang has ever seen, and it’s part of what makes Dejun’s actual personality so...jarring?— cute?— _not cute —_ Yangyang settles for... _endearing. Ugh._

“What’s that look for?” Dejun asks, glancing over at the deep frown Yangyang promptly wipes from his face.

“Thinking about your face.” Well, he’s not entirely _lying_.

“You’re a child.” Dejun has way easier access now to nudge Yangyang nice and sharp on his side, but his arm stays tight around his nonetheless. 

They begin to spend more and more time at the library as midterms slowly but surely approach. At first, it’s mostly Yangyang drilling Dejun over math equations and word problems, but Yangyang’s own workload eventually just has them quietly sitting across from each other most days after classes. Guanheng, Ten, and Kun join them throughout the first week, sometimes together, sometimes alone (Guanheng and Kun end up getting along quite well. It’s a minor work in progress with Kun and Ten), and Yangyang finally meets Xuxi and Sicheng the second week.

Dejun was right, Xuxi’s a _lot_ at first but he’s friendly in a way that almost reminds him of Ten, so he likes him. Sicheng is quiet but nice, and from the offhand comments he makes that make Dejun scoff or turn red, Yangyang thinks Sicheng might be “a lot” in a different sort of way. 

(Sicheng is also dating someone apparently, a piece of information that puts Yangyang in relief, and also immediately in a bad mood right after for that feeling.)

Even when the others appearances at the library slowly peter out, Dejun and Yangyang are still there, studying together, later and later— it’s eventually about a week and a half before midterms begin, and Yangyang’s still in a mood. He’s pissed at his professors for somehow thinking none of their students have other classes with the same amount of work and studying they’ve piled on them, despite the overlap of students within their classes basically being a perfect circle.

He’s pissed at _himself_ for not actually concentrating on this studying, instead glancing up from his notes to look at the shadow Dejun’s eyelashes cast over his cheeks from the lamp next to him, the fingers that grasp and turn pages nimbly as Dejun _actually_ reads his own notes. He’s pissed that he’s probably going to be staying up until way past midnight again— which again, is normal and cool for anything other than stupid ass molecular--

He feels fingers brush against his forehead and almost knocks over his textbooks entirely. Dejun pulls back, looking shocked and almost guilty— but then he just _laughs_ , right in his _face_.

“Sorry, sorry…” Yangyang clutches at his bangs like he’s clutching his pearls and boy, doesn’t _that_ feel stupid so he forces his hand back down on the table. “Your bangs were in your eyes.” Dejun explains. “Your hair’s getting pretty long.” And what stupid, dumb curse stupid, dumb Dejun has over him to have his mind racing over Dejun noticing _hair length—_ over Dejun not minding his _business?!_

 _Say something Yangyang._ “I can handle that myself, you know.” _NOT that._

“Right, right, you’re an adult.” Dejun’s going back to his notes already, eyes focused, but he’s still smiling. Yangyang really wants to do _something_ now— kick his shin, elbow his side, flick his forehead— _Maybe you really are a child.._.He’s somehow in a better and even worse mood now. It’s concerning how his mood can just shift like that now. It’s concerning how it’s even harder to read his notes than right before— yeah, fuck it, he’s _definitely_ in a worse mood now. 

His mind’s no longer on macromolecules but instead on a day long back in the eleventh grade, when Ten had left him all alone, waiting at his locker after school.

Maybe twenty minutes after he was supposed to, Ten showed up eventually, his smile wide and goofy and Yangyang already _knew_ why and it pissed him off. “You know Johnny’s not the one sitting around here like a dumbass waiting for you, right?” Ten wrapped his arms tight around Yangyang’s neck in apology, and Yangyang relented because no matter what, Ten is Ten and Yangyang will never truly be mad at Ten.

Yangyang did, however, glance at Ten’s face as they finally walk towards the bus stop together, his lips looking like they might burst at the seams from how hard he was holding back a smile or a laugh or _something_ , and he felt like he was in another world entirely from wherever his friend was at. At the very least, wherever Ten was drifting around, carefree, it had looked fun. So far, it’s not that fun for Yangyang. 

Yangyang and Dejun end up staying much later at the library that night than they have before, and the campus outside is almost pitch-black aside from the faint orange glow of scattered lamps along the walking paths, just barely doing their job at illuminating a way forward. “We can walk to your dorm.” Yangyang offers. “Wow, what a gentleman.” Dejun responds.

“Gotta make sure the elderly make it home safe! Besides, I doubt you carry any protection.”

“Oh, right, because you do— Yangyang, _what the fuck?_ ” It’s Yangyang’s turn to laugh at Dejun’s backing away from the (admittingly) giant pocket knife that he’s pulled out of his backpack and currently brandishing, the pad of his index finger right at the sharp tip. “Never know who’s praying on your downfall.”

“You’re a 20 year old STEM major. There is absolutely no one ‘praying’ on your downfall.” Dejun _clearly_ doesn’t know what he’s talking about so Yangyang brushes it off, throws his backpack over one shoulder and, for the first time, is the one who hooks his arm right around Dejun’s— for _purely_ utilitarian reasons. It’s only getting colder out, and the buddy-system needs to be fully enacted for how dark their walk is about to be. If Dejun notices, he doesn’t say anything, and Yangyang promptly shoves away the thought that Dejun might’ve glanced down at their arm connected for a fleeting moment before they begin their trek.

“Yangyang.” Dejun finally says, breaking through their silence a couple minutes in. “Can you please just put that thing _away—_ _no one’s_ going to attack you.” He tacks on before Yangyang can even defend himself.

“You don’t think ‘better safe than sorry’?”

“Yeah, but I carry pepper spray like a normal person, and I’m not carrying it thinking I’m about to launch into a _duel_ with someone at any moment.”

“So that’s what you’re saying then? No shooters out for you from Singing 101 or whatever?”

“I promise you that you barely even need your fists to take down a theatre kid, and we’re probably going to get more trouble over you swinging that thing around over anything else.” Dejun _does_ sound very confident in this assertion, but under the passing glow of the street lamp, poor Dejun’s face looks weary— _way_ too weary for Yangyang to pass this opportunity up to defend his own honor.

“I mean, _I don’t know_ , Dejun, it’s only _us_ out here.” — ( _Damn his stupid heart rate picking up the pace for no reason?_ ) — “No way my scrawny ass is do anything without Ol’ Reliable, but if you don’t like it, I guess big strong Dejun’s gonna have to keep us both safe from the choir kids, right?”

Yangyang squeezes Dejun’s arm with his hand wrapped about it, and relishes, for just a moment, how Dejun’s face reddens— “Never know when they’re just gonna pop out at you, right? Never know where they might be hiding, right—“ Before Dejun can sputter and argue (and before Yangyang can form any sort of opinion on what his bicep feels like), his fingers grip tighter to pull and _push_ with all his force—

“ _Behind you!”_

_“FUCK—“_

Yangyang grabs Dejun’s arm again just in time to keep from _completely_ stumbling over into the bushes next to their path, but it almost happens anyway, both because Yangyang is cackling so hard he can't stand straight, and because Dejun’s threatening to drag Yangyang down with him to the depths of Hell with how hard a headlock he now has him in.

“I almost _DIED_ of a _heart attack_ you _prick—_ “

“So you admit I _got_ you!-“

“I _admit_ that I’m going to _kill you—_ _how could there even be someone_ behind _me if you pushed me to the_ side, _idiot—_!“ 

Dejun’s grip on Yangyang’s shoulder is iron-tight as he’s shaking him back and forth while Yangyang’s still almost in tears— he was almost a _little_ afraid for a split-second that Dejun could actually be mad, but really, he doesn’t think Dejun’s ever truly gotten mad at him, or anything at all.

He’s stopped his assault on Yangyang’s shoulder to catch his breath, hunched over, and it’s at this moment that Yangyang feels a sudden pang of guilt. Guanheng and Ten were honestly very, very good early on in the friendship at setting boundaries on what kind of pranks they tolerate, and Yangyang, for as playful as he can be, has always been pretty good at respecting them ever since. He wonders if maybe he actually takes advantage of Dejun’s good-nature a little _too_ much— if Dejun would ever reach a point where he was actually honest about what he likes and doesn’t like.

It’s really not something Yangyang wants to treat lightly and break, because it’s exactly that good-natured disposition that Yangyang, unfortunately, likes a lot— wait. _A lot?_

“Hey, Dejun, really, are you ok— _SHIT—_ “

Because _of course_ when Yangyang kneels down slightly to make sure he’s okay, Dejun takes the opportunity to grab and yank Yangyang down out of nowhere— oh, never mind then, he’s getting it even _worse_ next time. 

But like always, Dejun catches him right before he falls as well, grip tight on Yangyang’s hand. “ _Now_ , I’m okay. Let’s go.” Dejun smiles too smugly, and Yangyang wants very badly to be annoyed, but he can’t, because damn, Dejun actually got him _really_ good.

He’s also a little distracted, because after everything, Dejun does not let go of Yangyang’s hand. Yangyang thinks, at first, that it’s Just to steady the two’s balance and fried nerves from almost falling into the deep darkness of the campus bushes, but his hand is warm, almost as warm as their arms linked together before, so neither of them let go until they’ve finally reached Dejun’s dorm.

They only split apart right before the door opened and Yangyang’s waving hello at Sicheng and Xuxi behind it, the warmth lingering as though their fingers were still wrapped around the others.

Kun texts Yangyang right after they’ve arrived, asking where he’s at before telling him to wait there so he can come meet him to walk him back himself. Dejun waits with him by the door, out in the cold, and soon enough Yangyang’s back in his own dorm, safe and sound. He tries not to think about it too much, because it’s nothing to freak out— but his hand burns more and more, even in the bitter chill of the night, and even as he lays on his bed, eyes closed shut, running that hand through his sleepy eyes and his too-long hair and bang, imagining it’s someone else running long fingers through them.

-

Yangyang, eventually, starts to think at a certain point that maybe he had spoken too soon, or rather, maybe he’s had it all wrong, all along.

He had thought, that fateful night about two and a half months back now, that admitting to his crush would bring changes almost immediately. What _kind_ of changes, he’s realized, he had no idea. Again, his only real frame of reference is Guanheng and Ten: the former who seemed to slip in and out of relationships so easily, neither of them would even know half the time who he was no longer dating until they met the _next_ person he was dating, and the latter continuously on-and-off with “The One” since high school. Based on this, Yangyang had figured that he could’ve maybe expected the alleged trials and tribulations and ups and downs and thrills and fears of young passionate love, or just nothing at all. 

And like he realized not too long after admitting that, that it had turned out to not really be any of those things for him. It was instead the tiny shifts he thought he had caught onto almost immediately. Even with zero experience and zero previous interest, Yangyang was still smart enough to at least anticipate all the stupid blushing and racing heartbeats, especially with how close he and Dejun have grown now, but he still didn’t exactly know what to _do_ about any of it, how to _feel_ about any of it. He’d keep going back to memories of the wistful sighs and knowing smiles of Guanheng and Ten to try and make sense of it all, and he still couldn’t find himself entirely relating. 

If anything, having a crush felt almost _humiliating_. Yangyang had spent so many years politely listening to and silently scoffing at the schoolyard romances of his peers and yet here he was now, his nerves in the iron-grip of _Xiao Dejun_ of all people. The same guy that tears up over musicals and knocked over the lamp they were using to study in the middle of their deathly silent library last Tuesday.

For all of this, Yangyang could poke at him and tease him— and lately, even borderline _flirt_ with him all he wanted, to see Dejun’s embarrassed, annoyed scowl and feel on top of the world for just a moment— but it would still all come crumbling down to the feeling of Dejun grabbing at his fingers for just a moment to pull him towards something he wanted Yangyang to see, or the sound of his soft humming during comfortable silences that made Yangyang wonder if Dejun knew he could hear him, or if even knew he was doing it all. 

It repulsed him and annoyed him and captivated him all the same. He’d feel sick to his stomach and almost euphoric. Out of his depths and he really, really hated it, and yet _not_ spending time with Dejun never seemed to be an option. Every time they do, he finds himself stealing more and more glances— and Dejun looks back almost every time and smiles, just the way he always does.

Yangyang doesn’t think he sees anything he’s feeling mirrored back in that smile, and _that_ makes Yangyang feel something he can’t begin to breach, but he can’t quite push it back in his mind either.

And even then, with this weird cache of new feelings unlocked that rattle around his head and stomach and rib cage so often now— Yangyang still believed, after a while, that that tangled, bungled mess of feelings would all one day just simply end at that. 

The week before midterms week, Kun effectively forced Yangyang out of his room and his self-imposed studying exile to watch a movie in their living room with him and Dejun, who had come over earlier that day to work on the final stages of their project song. They piled onto their tiny couch, Dejun stuck in the middle, and after twenty minutes of debating and scrolling, the three of them ended up picking some god-awful horror movie that Kun really wanted to watch and was positively loving while Dejun was trying his hardest to pretend he wasn’t scared out of his mind.

“You okay, Dejun?” Kun to the right of him pats his shoulder.

“He’d rather be watching some musical or like, British people falling in love or whatever.”

“ _No_ , I wouldn’t, and I’m _fine_.”

“You know Dejun, you can just hold on to my hand if you get scared.” Dejun swiped at the hand Yangyang was waving right in his face tauntingly, but he still smiled, his nose scrunched the way it always did when he was embarrassed. He also gripped the pillow he was holding tight and furrowed his brows, the way he always did when he was completely focused, and when Yangyang had glanced over at him halfway through to make sure he actually _was_ okay, Dejun met his eyes and smiled again, the same way he always did. 

He never grabbed Yangyang’s hand throughout the movie because there was no reason to take Yangyang up on his stupid joke offer he made just to tease him about being scared about this dumb horror movie, because who could _possibly_ be afraid of this movie? Only someone like _Dejun_ , of course. When Dejun gave him a smile and assured him he was okay, Yangyang eyes glanced down to see he had released his grip on his pillow and rested his hand on the cushion instead, close enough to this own to feel the same warmth he felt the night they walked back to Dejun’s dorm together. 

Yangyang could have just reached out if he wanted to. He didn’t though— because no way in Hell Dejun would get the chance to point and laugh at Yangyang’s face, ‘cause who was scared _now_ , right?

So the movie ended with Kun laughing and clapping at the screen, and despite it being a joke, Yangyang’s fingers twitched and his heart squeezed and stayed tight in his throat until the three of them were tearing through Kun’s snack stash on the living room floor, Kun and Dejun complaining about shared classes and their collaborative project and the day Kun asked him to be partners and Dejun saw Yangyang again— _wait_.

“ _Again_?” 

“Well, that was you, wasn’t it? That one day, outside of the auditorium. I was in there practicing and I thought I saw someone by the door.” Dejun and Kun were just happily munching through chips as Dejun said this all so _casually_ , meanwhile Yangyang thought his entire being might catch on fire—

“Wait, I didn’t know you had heard him sing before already then!” Kun said, and Yangyang knew at that moment that he had no choice but to pass away, but the universe wouldn’t even grant him _that_.

“But he’s amazing, isn’t he?” Kun nudges a smiling Dejun before twisting the knife further in Yangyang’s side. “Must’ve really stopped you right in your tracks, huh?” _Please, for the love of God, Kun, stop talking—_

Kun definitely seemed like he had more he wanted to say, but a distant text tone stops him. “Ah, phone’s charging in my room. I’ll be back in just a minute.” Kun reaches over to ruffle Yangyang’s hair, and while Yangyang usually kind of (secretly) likes that sweet gesture from him, he’s practically fighting back the temptation to _bite_ tonight. Kun leaves the room, and Yangyang immediately busies himself with the oatmeal cookies Kun’s left by his knee. 

“Yangyang, that really was you, right?” He hears Dejun ask, closer to him now. Yangyang continues inspecting his cookie for quality control.

“Yeah. Probably.” He shrugs. “Kinda surprised you even remember that.” His voice is thankfully staying as steady as he can keep it. He doesn’t look up to see Dejun’s face, but he thinks there might be a hint of _something_ in this voice— _but what_?

“I guess I was just surprised. I usually practice there when the other classes are in session, so it’s pretty empty.” Dejun falls silent and Yangyang thinks that might be it, shoulders relaxing.

“Why did you leave?” Never mind. _Now_ Yangyang looks up at Dejun. There’s obvious curiosity in his voice, but his face is completely neutral. Yangyang thinks he hasn’t seen his expression like this in a while. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I just...thought maybe I had scared you off or something.” Yangyang thinks there’s a hint of self-consciousness in his tone, and it’s not entirely unwarranted— Dejun’s resting face isn’t always welcoming when you see it for the first time. It’s, of course, not the reason Yangyang left, but he’s not going to tell him that. 

“I had class.” The day Yangyang had first seen Dejun and heard him sing frankly feels so long ago, he might actually be able to convince himself that was the true reason. The feeling of that day also feels worn away— replaced entirely by something new and, at this moment, startlingly raw. He looks at Dejun’s face, gaze steady, and Yangyang the face he has is the same one that had so intimidated him the day they formally met, before Dejun revealed himself to actually be an open book (at least, before right this moment.)

Yangyang also realizes he hasn’t heard him sing like that since that day either. He misses it. He wants to ask him if he can hear it again. 

“Did you like it?” Yangyang’s eyes almost waver, while Dejun’s stay, just as they are. His voice is quiet, and it pulls Yangyang in a breath closer just to hear.

“My singing, I mean.” Of course Yangyang liked it— there’s no way Dejun couldn’t have known that. Dejun himself openly admits to his talent— _Why lie, remember?_ Yangyang wants to say. He wants to play it off with that old joke that’ll make Dejun laugh as Kun returns from the room and they go back to eating their snacks and watching whatever other dumb movie Kun wants. Something that will finally tear Dejun’s eyes away from his and get that _look_ off his face.

“I did.” He admits instead, before he can stop himself. And before Dejun can respond, eyes dark and steady as ever, Kun returns— “Sorry, it was my parents!”— and the moment is gone, the way Yangyang wanted it to be.

They watch random YouTube videos and polish off the rest of the snacks until it gets too late and they walk Dejun back to his dorm for the night. Dejun waves at them both at the door before he gives one last smile to Yangyang, the same one as always and Yangyang feels something new shift underneath his feet. Dejun then texts him _G_ _ood night :)_ later, as he’s been doing lately, and Yangyang can’t place a finger on what it is, so it keeps him up longer, long past the time he’s texted good night in return.

-

_[screenshot]_

_\- i’m this close dude_

_u can’t see it but imagine my fingers like_

_super close together_

_THIS close_

_\- Are you ok?_

_\- i just sent you a screenshot of a drop out form and ur asking me if im ok_

_\- I don’t think you can do that online? Also, that’s a wikihow article_

_\- NOT_ _the point_

_\- You should take a break then. You wanna hang out?_

_I have something I want to show you_

Yangyang hesitates for a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek. Hanging out with Dejun sounds a hell of a lot better than laying face-down on his desk and open textbooks, hunched over, like he has been the last couple of hours. A couple more hours taken out of studying wouldn’t hurt, as it’ll likely be the last time Yangyang leaves his own dorm over the rest of the weekend until midterms _finally_ begin Monday and he faces his inevitable fate. Yangyang also knows he’s not hesitating because of his undying devotion to studying though. All the more reason to accept the invitation, because nothing is happening. Really.

Around fifteen minutes after Yangyang said yes, Dejun’s outside his dorm, taking mercy on Yangyang by not commenting on his rat’s nest hair and undereye bags. “Do not talk to me at all about inorganic compounds or whatever the fuck for the rest of the night.”

“Yangyang, I don’t even know that is.” Yangyang could hug him right now.

Xuxi greets the two on his own way out the dorm once they arrive. “Is Sicheng back yet?” Dejun asks and Xuxi shakes his head. “Think he’s still with his classmates right now, but he said he'd be back late anyway.” _Oh_ . “Have a good night guys.” _Oh no._ Xuxi flashes his usual huge smile and slams the door shut, leaving Yangyang and Dejun standing in the living room. “We can go in my room.” _Alone_. “Sure.” Yangyang says, not at all strangled as it feels. “Can I use your bathroom first?”

Once inside, he washes his hands and rubs at his eyes and brings his hands up to smooth down his hair before he stops himself because _snap out of it, Liu Yangyang._ There is no reason to be nervous because _why_ would he be nervous? This is _not_ the first time he and Dejun have hung out alone, _most_ of their time spent together is alone— _in his room though?—_ his hand almost comes up to slap himself before he shoves them both in his pockets instead.

He takes a short moment to sort himself out— there has to be a reason _why_ he feels this way. The reason being the crush. _Problem solved, time to be normal again_. But something else still nags him at the back of his mind, the same feeling that made him think twice about coming over in the first place. The feeling he had the night they hung out with Kun. The time to overthink has come to an end, however, because Yangyang has officially spent an uncomfortably long amount of time in his bathroom, so he wills himself to open the door.

“You can sit wherever you want.” Dejun tells Yangyang when he walks into his room from where he’s crouched down, tidying up a corner. Out of the three roommates, Dejun’s the only one with a single room, and it’s much smaller than Yangyang’s, but it feels lived-in and almost familiar, and it calms his nerves down, just a little. He can’t help the tiny smile that tugs at his lips as he looks because it really feels like the kind of room he thinks Dejun _would_ have, all of his hobbies and interest openly displayed or tucked in tiny corners. A small keyboard similar to Kun’s sits in the corner by his bed, notebooks and albums are shoved in a small shelf next to it, the walls are strewn in movie posters— 

“ _Twilight!?!_ ” Dejun shoots up with a speed not humanly possible— he almost knocks Yangyang over with how fast he swipes at Yangyang’s sole accusatory finger, but Yangyang jumps back and stands his ground because _no fucking way._ “ _Dejun._ ”

“IT’S _GOOD.”_

“ _NO IT’S NOT!_ ”

“YOU’RE IN _MY ROOM!_ ”

Yangyang’s almost on the floor at this point, but Dejun absolutely refuses to back down. “That poster has a lot of sentimental value, you know!” Yangyang stops and immediately looks up at Dejun’s indignant face, just a little worried.

“I got matching ones with my brother when we…went to watch it in theaters…”

The only reason Yangyang doesn’t pass out from how hard he’s cackling now is because Dejun’s swooped in to pull him into a headlock, prompting Yangyang to fight for his life in the ensuing struggle. Dejun knocks them back to the wall but unfortunately for him, if there’s anything at _all_ that Yangyang has, it’s pure stamina and an almost pathological need to push buttons.

“Sap! Loser! Corny! Wimp!”

“You’re a _five year old!_ ”

‘You’re a middle-aged housewife!”

“What’s wrong with _that_?!?” Dejun’s right in Yangyang’s face and he’s _so_ red and _so_ embarrassed and any hesitation or regret Yangyang had about coming over immediately vanishes because this is _exactly_ what he needed after the worst week of studying. “Nothing’s wrong with it ‘cause not even my actual mom likes that movie. It’s just _you_.”

“Yeah, sorry I don’t have posters of college football or shitty Vine compilations.”

“You still laughed at them, cornball.”

“Dick.”

“You like it though, right?” He’s probably getting way too bold now for someone who had to force himself into a pseudo-pep talk in his friend/crush’s bathroom, but after the worst week of studying in his life, Yangyang needs more pure, unfiltered Dejun embarrassment like a fish needs water, and shameless flirting has never once failed him. And honestly at this point, Dejun is practically _begging_ for it is because my God, could he _be_ any more lame—

Dejun’s face shift entirely. “And what if I do?”

It’s a horrible time, really, to realize Dejun has Yangyang effectively trapped against the wall by his door. _Alone_ The hesitation _and_ the regret is back because _whyyyyy now_ , _why_ this moment, for all of Yangyang’s stupid cringe joke flirting Dejun has never ever once taken it serious— is it _serious_?— _why_ take it serious _now_ — _is it serious?—_ and now he has nothing to say— nothing he _can_ say, nothing he’d _want_ to say, but say _something_ , _say anything—_

He puffs out air right onto Dejun’s face. Yangyang’s never been described as mature, but even he admits this is a low for him— but it gets the job done, so _ha_. “ _Ugh_ , brush your teeth…” 

“I did before you showed up, prick.” Yangyang’s been released from Dejun’s grasp and he feels his heartbeat and mind slow down finally. “You know, at this point it’s not even surprising so no worries, I’ve been forgiving you for your Live Laugh Love taste this entire time.”

Dejun glances over at him before he scoffs, settling down on his small keyboard bench with an incredulous smile. “You really are something…” Yangyang settles down cross-legged on his bed beside him, his nervous energy finally settling down to a low enough simmer.

“So,” Dejun begins from where he’s seated. “I guess it’s actually okay for you to pick on me right now because I half-invited you over for selfish reasons.” He holds up sheets from a notebook placed on top of his keyboard and turns fully to show them to Yangyang. “Kun and I’ve pretty much finished the entire song now. You wanna hear it?”

Yangyang nods enthusiastically. “You want my professional opinion that badly?”

“Exactly.” Dejun smiles, so Yangyang gives him his best flourish of a hand. “Play away then, student of mine.” Dejun’s smile grows wider before he’s turned back to the keyboard again. 

“Kun would actually be the one playing, of course, so this might still sound a little different from the actual song.” He says almost apologetically, then he begins to play. The beginning of the song starts off a little slow before it quickly builds and flourishes into something warm and full, and a little more modern sounding than the type of more orchestral songs Kun usually composes in their dorm. Yangyang appreciates Kun’s versatility for the time being as Dejun plays out his composition, eventually reaching the end of the intro. Dejun begins to sing then, for the first time since they day Yangyang and Kun run through their first practice of this very song, but it’s different this time.

The voice Yangyang recognizes singing those old Cantonese songs was impressive and powerful, but here, it’s smoother, warmer, brighter. His eyes are closed the same way they always are, but the harsh edges of his face have softened completely. The words he belted out before poured and flowed out much more loosely and it draws Yangyang’s eyes from his lips to his eyelashes to the planes of his face casted in shadow from the lamp above his shelf. It’s a side of him Yangyang hasn’t seen when he sings, but he thinks it matches him well— he thinks it matches him perfectly, really. The warmth it exudes matches the Dejun he knows now much more than the sorrow he first heard.

Hearing the music fill the room drove home for Yangyang that he truly did miss hearing Dejun sing, and it wasn’t embarrassing at all to admit that to himself. Dejun could transform himself entirely to be whoever the song needed him to be, but the soul that laid beneath it all— it was still Dejun. Maybe it was for more selfish reasons that Yangyang enjoyed the brighter, lovelier performance Dejun was giving now. It really did feel much more like him, even if Dejun could probably slip into the style of singing those sadder songs called for easily.

He wonders what he may have felt if he had stumbled upon this Dejun instead that day, the one that didn’t seem so cold and cool and mysterious. Maybe the feeling wouldn’t have changed much at all— or maybe it just didn’t matter at all, who he thought he met that day, compared to who he knows now. 

“What’d you think?” Dejun asks, breaking through Yangyang’s thoughts. He almost didn’t even realize the song had finished.

“It was really good.” He says truthfully. “I would’ve never thought either of you would make a song like that.” 

“Really?” Yangyang nods. “Why?”

“Just seems different from what you both usually do. I’ve noticed that Kun likes more classical stuff, I think, and you sing…” Dejun waits expectantly. Words aren’t Yangyang’s strong suit. “Sadder...songs?”

“Heartbreak songs.” Dejun finishes, smiling wistfully. “That’s what all those Cantonese songs are, since I know you don't know the lyrics. They’re beautiful songs- some of my favorites- but I actually prefer singing songs like this more sometimes.”

“Songs from this century?” Yangyang jokes, trying to break himself out of little daze, and Dejun laughs softly before his face turns more serious, catching his eyes directly. “Love songs.”

Yangyang pauses. “Oh. Makes sense for you I guess, since you like all those same songs Ten likes.”

“Department store music?” Yangyang has the decency to look a little guilty at this. “I actually tend to like R&B a little more, but like I’ve said before, I like all kinds of music. Love songs work well in any genre.”

Dejun’s singing had so thoroughly relaxed Yangyang before that it almost annoys him that he can feel familiar nerves creeping back up again. Didn’t he _just_ have his ten millionth crush-related epiphany already? “So you just _like_ any love song? Like, it just _has_ to be a love song, and you’re all in?”

“Well, actually, it has to sound good. But how could I not like love songs?” Dejun’s face is sincere again, but like, way, _way_ too sincere. Yangyang almost can’t even look at him, but it’s actually Dejun instead who ends up turning away slightly, back towards his keyboard. “Love is beautiful.”

“Ah…” Yangyang huffs out a laugh. He should be actually laughing for real, since it’s such an classically, embarrassingly sincere line that only Dejun could say with a straight face, but the laugh feels hollow. He really has no clue what’s happening right now. It’s the fact that he’s caught on to, however, that _something_ is happening right now. That something that’s causing whatever was lingering and poking at his brain before to come crawling back slowly. “Of course you’d say that.”

“You don’t agree?” Dejun’s turned his gaze back at him fully now and there’s that expression again, the one from the night on Yangyang’s living room floor. Dejun’s a wide open book any time other than when he’s staring like this, dark eyes deep and fixed right on him, almost like Yangyang’s being interrogated. The question and situation overall brings him back to the day long ago on his bed, when Guanheng and Ten had asked him what his thoughts were on “love”.

Yangyang’s answer isn’t too different now— he thinks.

“I mean...I don’t really think about it too much. Like. Love in general, I guess.” 

_Now just drop this subject._ “You’ve never been in love before?” _Fuck._

“No? I honestly don’t even...I don’t really crush on people like that.” He pauses. Looks for any sort of change in Dejun’s expression. There is none, and Yangyang has absolutely no idea how to feel about that. “Weird, I know.” Dejun shakes his head. “It’s not weird at all. It’s not anything you can force, or anything you’d want to force.”

He‘s at least grateful that Dejun doesn’t think him weird for not being particularly romantic, but his mind is racing too fast now so he can’t appreciate it too much. Yangyang knows there has to be a reason this feeling has returned, and he’s thinking now that maybe, if he takes their conversation in a certain direction, he might find his answer, but pushing further along that line of thought is making him hit a wall. 

It’s still the same feeling he had on his living room floor, the same feeling when Dejun smiled at him the end of that night, and the same look on Dejun’s face, the one that gives him the same urge to say something to take the edge off- laugh right in his face about how gross and sappy he’s being again or even just say something else about the song, something to steer them down another path entirely and that won’t make Yangyang feel like there’s something shifting between them again that he can’t control or understand. Or.

“Have you?” He asks instead, and Dejun nods. And before Yangyang can stop himself again— “How’d you know?”

Dejun considers this for a moment, eyes far off before they meet Yangyang’s again. “I think...you just do. It just...is what it is.”

The room suddenly feels hot, and Yangyang swallows. “I guess it’s just never really made that much sense to me.”

Dejun nods again. “Nothing wrong with that. Maybe you’d get it better if you thought about it as brain chemicals or whatever.” They both let out a small laugh, one that still feels a little hollow from Yangyang’s side, before Dejun’s turning away again, eyes focused on his hands splayed over the ivory keys of his keyboard. Yangyang sees the wistful smile playing on his lips from the side and he swallows, again.

“I don’t know. Maybe I am just a sap.”

Yangyang thinks he might finally understand what’s happening between them, but there’s no way to know for sure unless he pushes through. _Fuck it_.

Yangyang gets up from the bed slowly to sit down beside Dejun on his keyboard bench. “Yeah, you are.” He feels a nudge against his side. “But it’s okay, sometimes. It’s probably why you’re so good at singing those songs in the first place.”

“So you liked it then? My singing?” Yangyang nods, and feels himself pulled closer again to hear Dejun better, even in the quiet of his room.

“Duh. I’ve told you that already.” Dejun shrugs. “I guess I just wanted to hear it again.”

The rest of the night goes as normal as usual, as they eventually switch over to playing mindless PC games and chatting away until Kun texts Yangyang, asking what time he’s coming back to the dorm (“Your dad’s calling you back home- _ow!”_ As Yangyang successfully lands a kick to Dejun’s calf.) Dejun waits outside with Yangyang again until Kun comes by to walk him back. They’re quiet now, tired from the burden of weeks of studying and the camaraderie of the night, so Yangyang chooses to stare at Dejun from where his head is tucked into his arms, propped on his knees.

He thinks about when they had fallen silent earlier, after the song was over, and how Yangyang had grabbed Dejun’s free hand while the other played random notes on his keyboard, lingering on his long fingers before Dejun turned his palm up and clasped their fingers together, warm and tight. Right before Kun comes, waving happily in greeting, Dejun glances back down at Yangyang and smiles, the same way he always does.

Yangyang was inexperienced, but he wasn’t stupid, even if it took him a little bit to catch on to what was happening. He _will_ admit, through, that he’s at somewhat of a loss. Yangyang was able to accept he had a crush, and could accept now that maybe, it’s gone a little deeper than that— _not_ love. But deeper nonetheless. And he could learn how to get over it, even if he had to stumble and brute-force his way through it. He didn’t really know what to do with the idea that he wasn’t the only one feeling a certain way. That maybe he hadn’t been the only one feeling that way for a while now. So maybe he _was_ a little stupid. He hopes that at least now, nothing like this will slip past him again, but the new-found self-awareness telling him maybe don’t expect _shit_ brings back the feeling of floating away and throwing up his guts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi again! i feel like i had a lot i wanted to say here, but i don’t actually remember any of it anymore, so that’s fun i guess!
> 
> this definitely ended up being much longer than i expected, so this is officially a three-parter now. there is a 99.9% chance it will for sure stay that way this time, since i think this is already just past the point of Way Too Fucking Long, but i hope there’s a little enjoyment in reading this anyway 😅 thank you all for reading and thank you for your kind comments! i’m very grateful ❤️🥰
> 
> will probably update this if i actually remember what i originally wanted to say lol. also, on the off chance anyone was curious: the title of this fic comes from red velvet’s “candy”, one my fave b sides of theirs! also fitting for how cheesy this is tbh lmao


End file.
